Braine does not notice it. He only sees that other trace of Helen.
She seems to be in no pain, but utterly exhausted as he lays her back on the pillow, while they wait for Everet. Her eyes never wander from his face. He interprets their expression by his own emotions, and smiles back at her in response. There seems nothing peculiar in her silence. Even he finds it an effort to speak.
They hear Everet spring up the stairs. He knocks and comes in, as Braine bids him. He says, with a smile:
"You are ready to go?" looking at Helen.
Braine replies:
"Yes."
Helen makes no movement to help herself. Braine takes her in his arms and carries her, with no resistance on her part, to the carriage below. She is but a feather-weight. He draws her to him so that she rests with the utmost ease against his shoulder.
Everet sits opposite. He appears oblivious of everything but the lamp-posts in the street, but he furtively watches Helen's face. Its expression is terrifying him. He is thinking of the future of the friend who sits opposite. He does not dare interpret this changeless expression.
At the station he suggests that he remain in the city. Braine grasps his hand in mute appeal:
"I—I feel so helpless, powerless in some way, Everet."